I Came To Take You Home
by truglasgowgal
Summary: Erin didn't want to forget her; she just wanted to forget how they found her and everything that led up to that moment.


This'll prob go straight into AU-ville after the latest episode, but I hope you enjoy the read anyway.

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 **Title:** I Came To Take You Home  
 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Title from lyrics to James Bay's 'Hear Your Heart'.  
 **Summary:** Erin didn't want to forget her; she just wanted to forget how they found her and everything that led up to that moment.

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" _The price of anything is the amount of life you exchange for it."  
_ _ **Henry David Thoreau**_

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The powder was cloudy-white like the foam that rolled onto the beach that day, coating the shoreline in a haze and pulling the dregs back under. They didn't find Nadia with her toes tucked like a question mark under the wet sand or her fingers excitedly beckoning the rush of the incoming waves. They found her in a shallow grave, looking up at the gray sky and nothing else.

That was all Erin could see.

"Where'd you get the drugs, Erin?"

She jumped at the sound of Jay's voice behind her; there was no shame to burn hot and fast through her skin, but she still dropped the Ziploc. She should've held on tighter, she should've – She clasped her hands quickly together and lifted her head to focus on him instead. She didn't pick the baggy back up.

She ran her palms along her thighs; the jitters making her digits bounce like the uncoordinated skip of a child along the water's edge. "Like I don't have enough to worry about, now I got you snooping over my shoulder?"

Jay walked round to stand in front of her, but he didn't reach for the plastic either. So it sat there between them, the little crystals winking at Erin under the confined glow of her side lamp. He crossed his arms over his chest. "The baggy, Lindsay. Where'd you get it?"

Erin kept staring, determined not to give in. She tried to concentrate on him so she wouldn't _think_ , wouldn't _see_ , anything else.

It didn't work.

The curve of his arm muscles was like the angled slope the M.E. had to stumble down to reach Nadia. The smattering of stubble across his jaw was like the clumps of sand spread over Nadia's exposed collarbones. The jagged, misplaced line that broke his frown was like the stream of blood smeared across Nadia's pale pale skin.

She'd close her eyes, but that would only be mistake and she didn't need to make any more of those. She was drowning in them already.

So she snapped. "I'm a cop, Jay, where'd you think I got it?"

"Oh, so it's from one of your C.I.s?" He picked up what she was throwing down, even if every little tic told her he didn't believe her. "Which one? Give me a name."

Erin narrowed her eyes at him. They threatened to slide right shut. She was so damn tired. Too tired for this. She needed to stay awake, alert, alive –

"No."

His jaw clenched, back molars grinding. He wasn't happy. Well that made two of them. "Tell me who gave you the drugs, Erin."

"Why? So you can go over there and charge 'em with distribution?" she sneered.

"No, so I can go over there and break all their fingers," he bit back and she blinked at the harshness; tiny little clots of minerals grating away any softness she had left.

Her eyes flipped open, but they weren't fast enough, she wasn't fast enough.

"Now give me a name."

There was so much gray.

She shook her head, tried to get rid of the color and the feeling and everything about it. She came back to and the words left her slowly as she tried to understand; but she couldn't, because that wasn't right, that wasn't him. "You sound… you sound like Hank."

Jay shrugged; unfazed by the comparison, like she was missing something here, like he could make sense of it better than she could. Maybe he couldn't see all the gray? But how could he not? It was everywhere. "Well maybe Voight's way's got a time and a place."

"You don't mean that," she disputed, and she tried to get a better look at him, but he was dodging her and she couldn't make sense of it at all. "You're not like him. You're – "

"I'm what, Erin? I'm _better_?" he scoffed, throwing his head off to the side and she wished he wouldn't do that because she needed him to look at her, she needed him to – "What? Like Nadia used to think you were?"

"Don't say her name!"

She needed him to stop talking.

"Why not? You're doing this because of her, right?" Jay's eyes were on her now, watching everything about her and nothing else. Nadia had looked like that too, when they found her, staring up at the gray gray sky like she was searching for something more. "Because you can't deal with the fact that she died, but she did, Erin, and as painful and as terrifying as that is, it's the truth. You can't hide from it forever."

She wasn't hiding, not from Nadia. She couldn't. Nadia was everywhere. That was the problem. Nadia was everywhere, but she couldn't be. She couldn't be here and there, but she was. Erin saw her.

Still, she asked of him: "Why not?"

"'cos your version of putting it behind you is taking a trip back down the rabbit hole and that's the last thing Nadia would want for you," Jay told her and he was closer now, but if he stepped any further he'd trip over the edge and roll into a grave barely dug for one. Erin couldn't let that happen, she had to stop him; one was already too many, she couldn't add anymore to the pit.

"Don't. It – It's just one hit," she said, tried to warn him off, tried to explain. "Just to get me through this."

"Yeah, until you're done with that and you need another, right?" He was moving again, but she wasn't. "Where's it end, Erin? When you're so high you can't even remember your best friend's name? When your memory's so shot that you could be looking at her crime scene photos or the picture frames in your apartment and you still wouldn't recognize the girl you lived with for a year? When you're so numb to it all that you miss out on the memory of each and every little thing you loved about her?"

That wouldn't happen. She couldn't forget Nadia. She just wanted all the gray to go away, she wanted to see the color of Nadia's eyes spread through her cheeks and curl her lips wide. She wanted to hear Nadia's voice untainted by the circling gulls above, clearer than the relentless crashing of waves, louder than the hundreds of heavy boots pounding into the sand in search of her.

"Jay, please, I just need one!"

If he came any closer she wouldn't be able to let him go, she'd drag him down like she dragged Nadia down and she'd bury them all alive.

"No, you need _her_ , Erin," he said it so earnestly and the way he looked at her and how he'd dropped to a crouch before her – Did he think she didn't know that? She knew that. Only she had this Nadia: the one that was all wrong; all mottled and sandy and _gray_. She wanted the other Nadia, the one she had before. The one that found Erin when Erin found her. "And there's not a drug on the planet that's going to change that. You can take that baggy, empty it out on this table and snort it, shoot it up, it doesn't matter. It's not going to make her loss magically disappear. You're still gonna miss her with every fiber of your being. It doesn't matter what you take, or what you do, Lindsay, it's not going to bring her back."

"You think I don't know that?" Erin screamed at him, tearing her hands from his grasp.

She shouldn't have done that. She should've held on tighter, she should've –

"You think I don't know that she's never coming back? I know she's dead, Jay. I know it's my fault."

That echo she was hearing was just the taunting repetition of her own voice, the shadow that tried desperately to catch up with her was just the darker reflection of herself. There was no husk of laughter in her ear or body tucked slender into her side. The Nadia she couldn't let go of wasn't hers anymore, and that only made it worse.

"But maybe for five minutes I don't have to know that." She was so much quieter now: people tended to forget the calm after a storm, so distracted by the debris washed up on the shore. "I don't have to think about my friend being kidnapped and tortured and raped and murdered. I don't have to see how she suffered, how she _died_ , because of me."

"You think you're the only one responsible for what happened to Nadia? You're not." Jay wasn't so quiet, but he was steady and _here_ ; throwing her a Life Preserver even when the void between them outstretched the rope. He looked ready to go the distance for her, but they both knew Erin would have to go to him. "She told me she was going to get your cake and I just let her go. Ruzek was probably the last to sign your card, last to see her before she went, and he didn't stop her either. We all knew she was organizing a surprise party for you and, if anything, we encouraged her to go it alone because we knew she wanted to do it for you."

He took her hands and he held on tight and he didn't let go.

"She fought him, Erin. Nadia fought him every step of the way, because she knew we would come for her. She knew you would find her." Jay's thumbs brushed over her knuckles and his fingers squeezed hers, towing her back towards land; like the little tug-boat that could. "That bastard took her from us. That's on him. Not you. You don't get to take the blame for that, you don't get to take away her bravery. Nadia fought for you. Now you gotta fight for her."

The fog was starting to lift, but she still sought out the lighthouse; that beacon to guide her to safety; the light to bring her home.

"How am I supposed to live without her?"

"I don't know," Jay told her honestly, his hands still holding hers. "But I'm here for you, the team's here for you. Whatever you need, Erin, we're family."

"Right now," she swallowed, nodded to the diamonds that were never a girl's best friend, but still tried to lie to her at every turn. "I really need you to flush that bag."

He agreed, because he'd do as she asked so long as he could ensure they stayed afloat, and she watched him straighten out, wishing it was that easy for the rest of them. "You know what? Why don't we do it together?"

Erin nodded, a jerky movement that did more to dislodge the haze on the horizon, and reached out for him. She grabbed onto Jay with both hands because recent events had taught her one wasn't enough, and he walked them towards the bathroom.

"If you try and salvage any from the bowl, I'm gonna shove you all the way in," he said the words so casually, with a smirk and a wink she knew was just for her; he ran her aground.

"Thanks for the warning." Erin tried to emulate his tone, steal some of his smile for her own, but her words fell flatter than she intended. It wasn't surprising; nothing was working out like she wanted it to.

He lifted one shoulder, lips still crinkled, cheeks indented. "Well, I'm your partner, 'figure I owe you the heads-up even if I am trying to do right by you." He leaned a little closer and in a non-conspirational whisper informed her, "You're starting to smell."

She wasn't. She'd scrubbed the sea-air from her skin after she'd watched them take Nadia away.

She realized a minute too late what he was trying to do, but she tried to tag along anyway. She raised an eyebrow at him, her lips quirking just a touch, and she made a concerted effort to shape her voice into a sound he'd recognize – she watched his eyes light up like they'd emerged victorious. "That so?"

"I didn't want to say anything before, but now we're in here it just seemed like the right thing to do." Jay held out his arm to let her enter first; ever the gentleman, her partner.

"How considerate of you," she awarded him, determined to keep up with him. If she kept this up maybe she could pretend that was all there was: her and him and the stark white of the bathroom suite bouncing off the walls. That would be enough; that could chase away everything else for now.

"I like to think I'm a nice guy like that," he quipped and there was a growing smile with his words.

She turned away. She couldn't give him that much.

She looked from the neatly stacked pile of clothes on the closed toilet seat to the shampoo and conditioner lined up along the edge of the tub.

"I'm not showering with you in here."

"I'll be the perfect gentleman." Jay held up his hands, but he didn't surrender. "I'll even look away when you undress."

"Wow, now I am impressed," she condescended; she might be down, but she wasn't out completely. "Although if you peek, I guess I should be flattered right? Like I'm the one that got away."

"Hey, ok, listen. You really need to shower, and then you need to sleep." He cut that thread before it could unravel them both. "Those two things, in that order."

"So leave me alone and I'll get right on that."

He shook his head, lips u-turning with his frown. "Yeah, except see I don't trust that you don't have another stash hidden away in here, so you're gonna get your butt in that shower and then we're gonna flush the stuff that I know you do have, and then I'm gonna put you to bed."

"Oh is that so?" She wasn't going to win, but the challenge was all she knew.

"Yup," he said, crossing his arms over his chest, anchoring his feet shoulder-width apart. "You wanna fight me on it?"

She shook her head, but it didn't do anything. The gray was still there. "Not really."

She'd been adrift too long; he'd been moored to the shore. He'd waited and now she was here. He'd held on, he hadn't let go.

"Flush the bag, Jay," she told him.

He looked to her, stopped mid-step, other arm outstretched towards her; they needed to get to higher-ground. "You sure?"

"No," Erin admitted, felt the floor start to disappear beneath her. "But if you don't do it now, I'm gonna lose my nerve completely and then I will fight you on it."

"Ok, ok, here, it's gone." And he did as she asked, emptied the contents down the drain and flushed it all away. And then for good measure, he took her hand and hit the flush again, the last remnants disappearing like the white of the waves swallowed into a mid-ocean whirlpool.

She was bent over, gasping for breath and she didn't know why, was it relief? The immediate temptation was gone, but the need was still there. For something, anything, to take this pain away. To take the rage and the ache and the unbelievable emptiness and fill the hole in her with liquid concrete and watch it harden even under the midday sun and laugh as someone inevitably dipped their fingers inside just to mess with perfection until they gave up and all that was left was the messy imprints of their hands in the cold hard ground. That was one way to change the world.

She wanted to silence the voices, the cries, the laughter; to put her hands over her ears and stop hearing the world outside her head and the memories within. Would water do that? If she was submerged long enough, would it make the words all blend into one unintelligible mess even her mind couldn't distinguish? Would it steal the pitches of sound and leave only a dull buzzing murmur behind? Would it replace the sound of her heart beating with the cold flat sound of nothing at all?

She tried to escape from herself, but something anchored her.

All she heard was the water. That needed to stop.

"I've got you." She heard Jay's voice, above the waves. Realized it was his arms around her, him she was clawing at for help out of the rip. Like that day, like when he found Nadia. "I've got you, Erin. You're ok."

She wished it was that simple.

She opened her eyes and there was no water, no sand, no Nadia. There was just the sound of her shower, the swirl of her toilet.

One thing remained the same; even her mind couldn't conjure the lie.

There was no Nadia.

She stepped to the side, making sure to keep a hold of Jay as she went so he didn't think she was making a run for it without him. She couldn't, she needed him. If he didn't anchor her, she'd disappear. She was sure of it.

Erin stumbled over the edge and under the spray, and he was right there with her. She was panting for breath: the roar of the waves in her ears, the slosh of sand beneath her feet, the crinkle of plastic as they covered Nadia's face; the blood on her pale skin still rosebud red as she looked up at Erin and saw nothing.

Erin bent her head and sunk her fingers into the sinew of her partner's arms.

"Breathe, Erin, you gotta breathe for me."

When she opened her eyes she found his. Droplets of water clogged her eyelashes, her hair plastered to her forehead, days-old clothes clinging to her skin. His eyes weren't black and his skin wasn't shock white and his chest was moving beneath her hands, now flat palmed against the slick of his shirt.

She was aware of her legs failing her all of a sudden. Wait, did they fail her or did she fail them? She shivered and felt something wrap all the way around her like a shroud. She curled her hand over the edge of the material and frowned down at the tufts of white fluff that peeked between the ridges of her fist. It felt softer than tarp.

That didn't make sense.

He sat her down on something softer than a hilltop, gave her a view better than the man-made seascape and he held her like that day.

"Can we take her home now, Jay?" she asked him. Nadia looked so cold and pale, lying down there on the hard ground. And she was all on her own until they came for her.

"She's here, Erin," her partner's assurances were stronger than the wind that blew in across the waves and dried the salt to her cheeks. He held her tightly. "You got her. She's ok."

She blinked and saw a face she recognized as her own staring back at her. She stared at the photo on her bedside table; stared at the image of Nadia pressed in close to her.

A stream of light bounced off the glass and illuminated their faces and Erin saw the smiles: first Nadia's and then her own.

Things started to look a little less gray after that.

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" _I exist in two places,_

 _here and where you are._ _"_

 _ **Margaret Atwood, Selected Poems (1965-1975)**_

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The End.

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Hope you liked it – despite the subject matter/current episodic events.  
I'm aware the way I tend to write grief can come across as a series of jumbled, often seemingly mismatched thoughts. (This is as intentional as my tendency to use symbolism and metaphors for absolutely everything.) This is undoubtedly influenced by personal experience; that sensation (because at times it's not even a fully-fledged feeling) of just being completely and utterly _lost_.  
Apologies if this makes following the narrative overly difficult, feel free to comment/message/review and I'll endeavour to explain the point I was trying – and obvious failing! - to make :)

Thanks again for reading.  
Steph


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